Corrupted System
by Punkotic
Summary: A quick one shot of the Joker's stay in Arkham Asylum. The guards always got a bit itchy at the fingers when the Joker's hair showed signs of being reformed to its former emerald green, and for Harleen Quinzel; she had gained more than she had bargained for as she learns that the corruption found in the Asylum spread out further than the Joker's own hands. (Joker's POV)


_This is a very quick one shot that I was inspired to write having recently watched the film. I was really inspired by the idea of writing a section that focuses on the Joker's stay in Arkam Asylum as it was so briefly mentioned in the plotline. My first Joker story, the focus of his hair is what came to mind when I explored his character and personality. I hope you enjoy_

It had been a very long time since the guards had brutally mocked me to this extent. Far from being crippled, I was however in need of medical attention as I sat glumly in my provided chair. My already red stained lips busted, my left eye had also seen better days as it was now swelled with a fury. It was to be expected I suppose, the guards always tended to get a bit itchy at the fingers when my hair showed signs of being restored to its former glory of emerald green.

My personality agitated them, enough to the core this was their attempt in keeping me under control; up until the next injection my strength as the joker continued to regain itself.

"Mr. Joker, what happened?"

Empathy, an expression hardly given to me at the hands of the tissue as she delicately wiped the blood off of my lip I grimaced at her. "This is the guard's attempt of curing me,"

"The guards did this to you?" the tissue paused, to pick up the access blood that had worked its way onto my chin.

I scoff, "Dr. Quinzel, I am a criminal; the best one at that. If you were to think that my stay here was going to be peaceful then you are terribly mistaken. I know for a fact that all the guards here have it out for me."

"Mr. Joker, I am here to tell you now that the guards don't have the right or authority to physically abuse the patients here, it goes against numerous protocols."

Silver crept across my blood crusted lips in a menacing grin, highly entertained I laugh. "Do you honestly think they care about the protocols? The system is weak Dr. Quinzel!"

She opened her mouth to speak and I rudely interrupted her, "I am drugged consistently by the Doctor's here, their pathetic attempt into curing my insanity, but how can you cure a man that was never sane to begin with? Its defunct, the only progression they make is the fading of my green hair; it drains me which makes me manageable, but doesn't cure me. You can never cure an insane man, only make him worse.

"That's what they like to think Doc, that if they can't cure me then they will settle for second best, which is to keep me broken. After each injection, after each drip of insanity that is flowed through my veins, my hair becomes a ticking bomb; the instant that it begins to define its emerald green, alarm signals fly and the guards ambush me in the halls, even in my own cell. Anything to keep me contained up until the next injection. I haven't had a decent meal in weeks, and my thirst is vanquished with the rainwater from the gutters outside.

"Now Dr. Quinzel, do you blame me for not trusting a single person in this bloody operation?"

My dead heart exposed, I was surprised to find that out the corner of the Doctor's eyes they had leaked with even more empathy. My words twisted to what I wanted her to believe, I watched her shift to catch the tears that had threatened to fall. I had downgraded myself, no longer the cruel and sinister clown of darkness that she had believed; I had now become the victim of constant abuse in the asylum.

The consequence, it affected her; greatly.

"You poor thing," it had been a whisper, and I almost didn't catch it if it weren't for how close to me she was sat. Sparks flew inside her and she instantly recomposed herself, possibly embarrassed to being caught she moved to pick her files back up. "As your psychiatrist Mr. Joker I will see to it myself that I talk to Dr. Arkham, to try and resolve the abuse that you are being inflicted. The use of violence isn't tolerant by any standards and especially not to be used when trying to cure a patient."

I smiled at her formality, still posed to be the professional out of the pair of us it fell however when I noted the pen hit the table; no longer possessed in her fingers.

"I like to think of you as my friend Dr. Quinzel," I begin again, eager to catch her interest which was high. "You're the only person here who has shown interest in my well-being instead of my initial state, I like to think that I can trust you."

The right answer she was looking for, she mimics my smile but hers wasn't as menacing. "Thank you Mr. J, I like to think of you as my friend too."

Her position on the chessboard now placed for me to properly analyse, it didn't take a genius to know that the petty little Harleen Quinzel was falling for her poorly crippled patient. My efforts of seduction proving to be useful I could imagine my freedom at the end of the abandoned hallway, all I needed to do; was keep playing my cards right.


End file.
